


You'll sit forever, gluing things together

by Nakimochiku



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 14:46:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4670627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakimochiku/pseuds/Nakimochiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There's one last candidate. But if you fail this test too, I'll have no choice but to remove you."</p>
<p>Or, just because Will can drift with everybody doesn't mean they suit him half as well as Hannibal Lecter does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll sit forever, gluing things together

Jack Crawford looks like he can’t even remember what a bed looks like. He rubs both his hands down his face before fixing Will with a bone weary look. “That’s the fourth pilot.” he says lowly. It’s a far cry from his bellows the previous three failed drift tests. He rubs at his eyes, then folds both his hands on his desk. Will stares straight ahead.

The suit digs sharply into the junction of his hips, he taps on the sides of his helmet with restless thumbs. He has no answers for Jack, just nervous energy and a serious need for some advil and twenty four hours of sleep.

“What I don’t understand,” Jack continues as he rises to stand, cutting an imposing granite figure backlit by the setting sun streaming through the wall to wall windows. “Is how you can have such a high synch ratio with all of the candidates, and then fall almost immediately into a discord you don’t even seem to try to get out of.”

“It’s not the drifting that’s the problem, Jack.” Will sighs. “You know that.”

“What I know is that your brain can somehow drift with anyone we toss in a Jaeger with you. I could probably throw a cat in there with you, and you’d drift just fine.” Will snorts softly and Jack allows a rare amused smile to cross his mouth before it vanishes. “So why can’t you keep it going? What’s throwing you out of alignment so badly?”

Will refrains from shrugging. It’s not that he doesn’t know, it’s just that he doesn’t know how to explain, has managed to avoid the topic completely so far by holding his silence. But Jack doesn’t look like he’s going to let him get away with that again, he waits patiently, both eyebrows raised. “It’s not the drifting.” he says again, for lack of anything better to say. “It’s like… I’m not just seeing into other people’s minds, I’m not just clicking with them, I’m not just seeing what they see, I’m becoming them, I’m--”

“You’re unable to keep yourself separate in the drift.” Jack summarizes. At Will’s nod Jack heaves a sigh like the weight of the world has settled itself fully on his shoulders and he can’t breathe under the pressure of it. “Maybe I should just remove you from the program--”

“You can’t do that.” Will objects, bursting out of his seat, sending his helmet tumbling out of his lap. “Anything but that. There must be someone, one last candidate? I’ll try not to lose myself, I’ll work even harder, just don’t take this from me.” Maybe he looks as desperate as he feels. Jack studies his face, mouth distinctly downward.

“There is one last candidate.” he relents. Will’s shoulder drop with relief. “But if you fail this test too, I’ll have no choice but to remove you.” Jack moves to the door to open it, and calls out a name. Will turns to watch another Jaeger pilot stride in. He doesn’t have the distinctive swagger to his walk other Jaeger pilots have, doesn’t have the familiar, harried look of someone who has stared into an abyss and had all five beady blue eyes stare back and roar at him. Will dislikes him instantly. “Will Graham, I’d like you to meet Doctor Hannibal Lecter.”

“A pleasure, Will.” Hannibal says smoothly, the patina of his accent worn and warm. He holds out his hand, but Will just looks at him blankly. Something in Hannibal’s tea brown eyes flickers before he smiles almost warmly.

“Will’s one of our brightest minds. He’s capable of aligning with almost anyone.” Jack says, trying to crush the sudden awkward air between them.

Hannibal hums, studying Will up and down. His gaze feels physical, with weight and depth as he evaluates him. “A mind capable of drifting with anyone must risk the kind of mental instability that borders on frightening.” Will’s mouth curls with distaste when he turns to look at Hannibal properly. He studies the aquiline point of his nose and the deep set of his eyes and the mischievous curve of his smiling mouth.

“Should I be frightened of drifting with you?” Hannibal only smiles a little broader at him, revealing a hint of teeth like baring fangs.

“I’m sure you two will be fine.” Jack breaks in, a tinge of an awkward laugh in his voice.

Hannibal’s eyes remain fixed on Will’s, like he can see through him, right to his bone marrow. The feeling makes his skin crawl and his hair stand on end and something in his belly tingle. “I’m sure we will.” he says like a promise.

 Will snorts when he looks away, feeling the chill of Hannibal’s gaze along the curve of his jaw. “Would have better luck drifting with that cat.” he mutters. He stands, bends to retrieve his helmet, and exits the room with nary a backward glance.

*

“A doctor.” Will says blandly when Hannibal invites himself to his table with a container of his own food. Will doesn’t blame him. Sure, people in Hong Kong can get bread, but there’s no guarantees about quality. Hannibal hums and takes a delicate bite of his lunch. “How do you go from being a doctor to being a Jaeger Pilot?”

“In the face of the end of days, listening to people talk about problems they already had answers to seemed comparatively trivial.” Hannibal answers with a hint of a smile. There’s something secretive in the look, like he’s just told Will a joke that only the two of them are in on. Will makes a soft noise. Comparatively trivial, like every aspect of life beyond breathing, with the kaiju bearing down on them and growing stronger with each encounter.

“That’s one way to put it.” Will grunts.

"And what about you?" Hannibal broaches, looking up from his meal and dabbing the corners of his mouth with a napkin. "Where did you come from, and why did you come here?"

Will shrugs. Around them both the cafeteria buzzes with life, chatter and laughter. "Used to be a homicide detective in New Orleans." Hannibal nods along sagely. "Jack Crawford got his hands on my psych eval and figured I’d make a great Jaeger Pilot." Hannibal blinks and tips his head in curiousity. "They call it pure empathy. I call it an active imagination. I find it easy to drift with pretty much anyone."

"But not stay in the drift." Hannibal observes. He lifts both eyebrows. "Wouldn't you say that imagining a drift compatibility is not the same as actually being compatible?"

Will watches him a moment before turning back to his tasteless eggs and over steamed vegetables, and finds them bland. He has no answer to that. Hannibal’s lunch slides into view. He isn’t smiling when he gestures with his hand, as though to say “try some.” There are tender cuts of meat and stewed vegetables swimming in juices arranged artfully. Will takes a bite.

“Think you’re in the wrong profession.” Will allows as he chews and savours the sweet, savoury salty flavours bursting on his tongue. “Should have dropped being a doctor to become a chef.”

Hannibal laughs softly and picks at his food. “How kind of you to say so.”

“You don’t want that bread, I’ll take it, Graham.” Beverly says as she wanders by. She doesn’t wait for Will to reply, she just snatches it and shoves it in her mouth and grins, lifting both brows as though daring him to fight her for it. He waves a hand at her.

“Take the jello too, if you want it.” he doesn’t even get to finish his offer before she swipes that too.

She tips her head back and swallows the bread like a seagull. Hannibal watches her utterly horrified. “Nice to meet’cha.” Beverly chirps. “I’d shake your hand but--” she gestures with her tray and bowl of jello.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” Hannibal replies dubiously.

“After lunch I’ll be showing you around Ripper before we hook you up. You wanna join us, Will?” He shrugs and she smiles. “See you then, boys.” She flips her long black waves over her shoulder with a toss of her head, and goes to sit with the other techs a few tables away. Hannibal watches her go like she’s a lit firecracker.

“Bev’s a character.” Will says, though he makes no efforts to apologize. “She’s a good tech, and a good friend.”

“Certainly.” Hannibal allows gruffly, mouth twisted a little. “I’ll have to take your word for it, my good Will.”

*

 

“Chesapeake Ripper.” Beverly announces with a grand gesture. “Eighty meters tall and just under two thousand tons of fucking awesome." Hannibal manages not to look awed as he cranes his head way up to look at the black and red and slate gray giant robot.

“Impressive.” he says. His tone is cool. Will lifts a brow and wonders if Hannibal notices the affronted twist of Beverly’s entire face.

"Impressive isn't the half of it." Beverly waves at them to follow her up the support beams, their footsteps clanking and resounding on the metal. “Ripper’s completely digital, made for tactical nerds like you two.” She’s inspecting Ripper as she goes, rapping sharply on the metal hull. “Maneuverability is the main objective here, and Ripper’s hand to hand combat is incomparable. Impressive just scrapes the surface of what this bad boy can do.”

“I stand corrected.” Hannibal allows, nodding his concession to her.

Beverly flips her hair at him and grins. “That’s what I thought.” She leads them further up the supports. “Ripper was one of the last Mark 4’s off the line, so handling is a lot smoother. You guys will see that when you get in.” She looks between them, then up at Chesapeake Ripper. “I have to do a couple checks up top. Do you mind if I leave you both here for a little bit? Will can probably tell you anything else you need to know about Ripper. It’s like his baby.”

She whirls around and leaves them without another word. They are silent a moment, heads bent all the way back to take Chesapeake Ripper in. There’s a stag head emblazoned in blood red on the right side of it’s ink black chest plate, antlers tipped forward like it’s ready to charge some unseen opponent. “So what do you think?”

“Impressive.” Hannibal says again, but his tone lends itself a little more to speechless amazement. He turns to Will, eyes shadowed. “Did Miss Beverly mean it when she said this Jaeger was your baby?”

“Yeah I guess. I do a bit of maintenance myself when I can. Makes me feel like I understand Ripper better.” He presses his hand to Ripper’s hull through the supports, feels its massive heart thrumming through cool metal. Sometimes he feels like Chesapeake Ripper is all he has left in a dying world. Chesapeake Ripper is a beacon that makes sense, standing tall and strong and true. Hannibal looks at him appraisingly, like Will’s said all of this out loud.

“This Jaeger really is very impressive.” he says.

Will wonders if he means because it’s strong, or because it brought the two of them together.

*

“Initiating neural handshake.”

Will closes his eyes, feels someone else’s soul flooding his veins like hot water, clearing everything he once was away. There’s something undeniably clean about the whole ritual, about the intimacy of surrendering himself to someone else. The drift is silent and the silence is welcome.

He sees his dogs, Alana waving from the porch. He sees his father on the docks at sunset, hand shielding his eyes. He sees failed drift partners and his tenth grade bully and the long road from New Orleans to Virginia, chasing shifts up the coast. He sees it all and then it’s gone, replaced by something foreign and cool and distinctly Hannibal.

Will matches it with ease, like a rhythm he slips right into when he’s expected to keep the beat. It’s as simple as counting, as breathing, as reciting the alphabet. This part has always been good, finding his partner’s wavelength and following it, breathing in sync, as one unit with one brain like they came out of the womb that way.

“Neural handshake holding strong at ninety-nine percent.” Beverly’s voice announces in his ear. “This is the best I’ve ever seen Will do.”

“Doing good, both of you.” Jack says. “Can you take it a step further?”

“Yes sir.” Will and Hannibal say simultaneously. They move in sync, left arm coming up to meet the right, testing the weight of their new limbs and feeling each other in the drift.

In the drift is silence, and it is white and blue, chilled and familiar. He sees a portrait drawn in precise lines of graphite. He sees a blond woman in a Jaeger suit with a secretive smile shot over her shoulder. He sees a willowy asian woman at a kitchen counter, slicing fish into slivers.

Something jars him like he’s been punched in the jaw. It sends a shudder through the whole Jaeger, tossing them around inside. He sees a boy, mutely screaming, he sees tea brown eyes narrowing in determination, he sees a fist clenched in rage around a pair of bloody scissors.

“Uh oh, Will’s out of alignment, he’s following the rabbit, ratio is dropping quickly.” Beverly’s voice pitches up as she taps away at her interface. “Should i take them off line before--”

“No.” Jack orders firmly. “Not yet. Hannibal, do you think you can get Will back in alignment?”

“I can certainly try.”

Will sees a little girl. She smiles at him, she shows him a flower, she calls his name, she coughs and coughs and coughs and eyes turn on her like ravenous wolves, and it’s his fault his fault his fault--

“Shut down is ready just in case Hannibal can’t pull Will out in time.” Beverly informs. Jack doesn’t reply.

Will sees--

Music tickles his ears, the trill of a flute and the roar of a choir in unison. A tenor voice breaks above the others, passionate and sorrowful as the music takes a darker tone. Opera floods his mind, classical music quiets the drift.

“That’s right, come back to me. There’s nothing to fear in my mind.” Hannibal’s voice is coaxing and soft, tempered by the reverberating strum of string instruments. “Follow my voice Will. Follow the music.” Will shudders and blinks. The girl is gone, the hungry eyes and grabbing hands are gone. There’s only the silence of the drift. There’s only the crescendo of music tethering him to the now.

“Neural handshake ratio climbing back up, currently at ninety seven percent.” Beverly reports. “I’ve never seen Will get back in alignment with someone. Whatever you’re doing Lecter, keep doing it.” she sighs out an anxious and amazed breath.

Will casts a glance at Hannibal to his right, where he smiles beatifically. He wants to ask about the little girl, he wants to somehow share the pain of a little boy screaming at the world, but all he can do is look at him and say “Opera?”

“The damnation of Faust.” Hannibal informs primly. “It keeps me focussed.”

When Will thinks, "lest I myself be damned," Hannibal glances over at him with twinkling eyes and the threat of a laugh on his mouth, and Will knows Hannibal heard him in the drift.

*

“You kept your promise, Will.” Jack announces, but he doesn’t look altogether happy with the words coming out of his mouth.  Will just nods once, boredly plucking a loose thread in his sweater. “But I want to be absolutely clear on something.”

“Yes?”

“Will that happen again?” Jack demands, voice hard as stone. “Will Hannibal constantly have to pull you back into alignment? Because if this is going to be a frequent occurrence, I cannot let you out on active duty."

Will has no argument or answer to that, just the cold weight of fear and exhaustion.

"I need you to answer me honestly. Are you too unstable for active duty?"

"I'm not unstable." Will retorts sharply. He chews over his next words, then decides they couldn't possibly do any more harm. "Something was different with Lecter. Something that made more sense. I don't think falling out of alignment is going to be a problem anymore."

Jack smiles and moves around his desk to clap him on the shoulder. "That’s what a natural drift compatibility is supposed to feel like." Will nods vaguely. "I want you two to run a few more tests, get really used to co piloting before I put you out there. Sound fair?'

"Sounds fair."

"Good. Get out of here."

*

“You dive too deep.” Hannibal sits primly on the ledge in his cargo jumper, bomber jacket folded in his lap. Will glances at him only once and turns to study the imposing figure of Chesapeake Ripper with sparks flying off its black chest plate. Someone has decided a raven would look good painted opposite the stag.

“Yeah.”

“You get sucked into other people, become stitches in the tapestry of their being, follow their rabbits instead of your own.” He says it like he understands, and Will supposes that’s the lingering effect of being a shrink. It doesn’t make him half as uncomfortable as it should.

“Yeah.”

“Drifting must be uncomfortable for you that way.” Chesapeake Ripper’s face plate glints a hellish red beneath the flare of sparks raining overhead. The same sparks flicker in Hannibal’s eyes as he looks at him.

“A little bit.”

“Why don’t...you let me become stitches in you, instead of the other way around?”

“Because that’d be uncomfortable too.”

“I’ve already been in your head, Will.” Hannibal laughs. “A little discomfort won’t scare me now.”

A siren wails overhead, around them techs start scrambling into position. "Lecter, Graham." Beverly calls over the PA system, voice booming all over the shatterdome. "We got category four movement in the breach, code named Wendigo. Get ready to drop."

“Ready, my dear Will?”

“More than I’ve ever been before."

 


End file.
